


I'm Always Here

by TotalFanGirl221B



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Caring Douglas, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Martin Crieff Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-05
Updated: 2015-08-05
Packaged: 2018-04-13 04:57:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4508655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TotalFanGirl221B/pseuds/TotalFanGirl221B
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oneshot based on this prompt: http://cabinpres-fic.dreamwidth.org/6968.html?thread=13900600#cmt13900600</p><p>"I'm feeling really down at the moment... So can someone take it out on Martin for me. Martin whump or h/c is the best kind of comfort" </p><p>Martin gets mugged on his way to work, having all of his money and his mobile taken, forcing him to go back to the shared house and make a call to one Sky God to ask a favour.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm Always Here

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Cabin Pressure or any of the characters

“D-Douglas?” the voice at the end of the phone whispered, clutching the phone tight in his hands.

“Ah, Captain, I was beginning to think we wouldn’t be hearing from you today.” Douglas spoke in his all-too-high-and-mighty tone which only made Martin wish even more that he hadn’t made the call, especially when he heard the second voice in the background belonging to the CEO of MJN Air.

“Is that him? Is that Martin?” he heard her speak in a distressed tone, as if ready to reach through the phone and strangle him until he lost all of the air in his body, which, at this rate, wasn’t going to take an incredibly long time. “Ask him where the _bloody hell_ he is; I know you’re on standby, but you are _paid_ to come in a sit around for a few hours a day.” Martin rolled his eyes, not bothering to correct her as he really wasn’t in the mood today. He just wanted to get this over with.

“I-I need a-a favour, Douglas.” He continued to whisper, shivering as he did so. Douglas could hear the desperation in Martin’s voice and decided that now would be the perfect time to subject Martin to his daily teasing. Oh, what _joy,_ Martin thought as it came.

“The supreme commander of this vessel needs a favour from _me;_ a mere _sky god._ I wonder what it could be. Did you perhaps get yourself stuck in another tree?” he expected to hear the other man groan as he always had, making the teasing worth it, but there wasn’t a sound coming from the other side. He waited for another minute and a little concern crept into his mind. No, no, it _couldn’t_ be. He shook the thought straight away… Though, just to be sure… “Martin?” he lowered his voice, losing his sophisticated tone and replacing it with a much calmer, friendly tone which Martin had only happened to hear on very few occasions. Perhaps only once or twice. “Is everything alright?” he spoke after yet another pause on the other end.

“I need…” the other man coughed and then began again, his teeth chattering so loudly Douglas could hear them through the phone. “I need you to come and pick me up, the er… the van’s- it’s broken down, y-you see.” Douglas could sense something was wrong, and so spared the man an extra bout of teasing and got straight to the point.

“Where are you?”

“I’m at… at the shared house.”

* * *

 

When Douglas got to the house he hadn’t really known what to expect. It had been quite a surprise when he had entered the office and Martin _hadn’t_ been there already filling in paperwork, and now it was even more of a surprise that he was actually asking Douglas for a _favour;_ he had actually admitted to Douglas that he had a problem and he needed his help. So, on arriving at the student house, he really didn’t know what he was going to find.

                A young adult male answered the door, hair still untamed as he stood in some sort of night clothing. He had yawned before grunting “Who is it?” to Douglas and the first officer had to fight himself not to just barge straight past this baboon (especially since it was still pouring down with rain) and get to Martin. Before he could reply with his name, however, a younger woman came to the door in a much more presentable manner. She smiled at the visitor and pushed the younger man back inside, telling him to “go and get changed” in a slightly aggravated manner. “You must be…” she paused, trying to remember the name. Douglas was about to interject, but she suddenly remembered and smiled, holding out a hand. “Douglas Richardson, that’s it,” she moved out of the way slowly. “Come in, Martin’s just in the kitchen; he said you were on your way.” Douglas did as she instructed, a little baffled that he had somehow not managed yet to get a word in edgeways to anybody here.

                As they walked down the hall, the young woman stopped him and smiled delicately. “He’s in a bit of a state; calmed down a bit now, but you should’ve seen him when he came back! He had a bit of panic attack, but we made him a cup o’ tea and he seems alright now… Still a little shaken, but he’s alright.” She smiled reassuringly at the man who now was utterly confused, which was the next surprise of the morning. _Why had Martin had a panic attack?_ He wondered as this strange woman continued to lead him back down the hallway and into the big kitchen where the pilot was sat on one of the stools by the table, hunched over his tea, arms wrapped behind his head and his back facing Douglas. “Martin, Douglas is here.” Martin’s reaction was not his unusual shocked “oh I-I didn’t know you were- were there” it was a swivel round, knocking his tea right over, thankfully not onto the floor so the mug didn’t smash, and almost falling from the chair. “Oh, sorry, God I didn’t mean to startle you, sorry!” the woman insisted, rushing to his aid as she grabbed a cloth and cleaned up the spilt tea, but Martin stopped her and grabbed the cloth, trying to disguise his horror with a nervous chuckle. It didn’t really work.

“It-it’s fine, Claire, I’m sorry. I’ve got it,” he reassured her, wiping up the remainder of the tea, all the while the first officer just stood by the door, taking in the state his captain was in. Claire – as he now knew her to be – had not been exaggerating; he really _was_ in a right old state. His hair was all tussled up and plastered to his forehead, dripping wet, though he’d obviously brushed it because he was ready for work, meaning he wouldn’t have left it in such a way. He had a black eye, his uniform was drenched and muddy and a little torn in a few areas, his knuckles were grazed, as was his cheek, and he was more pale than Douglas had ever seen him.

 “Douglas?” he was soon pulled out of his reverie when he realised Claire had left and Martin was staring at him, one eye squinting simply because of the bruising beginning to form around it, and was now waiting for a response. The first officer immediately straightened and walked casually over to him, watching as the younger man continued to tremble, wrapping his hands into fists as to make it stop, though with little success.

“Martin” he spoke quietly, shocked by the state of the man. “What on earth happened?” Martin turned away, blushing slightly, which only made him look worse. He blinked rapidly, bracing himself to explain everything.

“I- I- I was mugged.” He said quickly, managing to control his breath; Douglas realised he had probably practiced doing so before his co-pilot came round, so he didn’t get himself even more panicked. “They t-took my wallet, m-my phone – I had t-to use C-Claire’s to call you,” he stuttered, playing with his fingers now as Douglas stared at him. “They- they grabbed me- from behind… I didn’t- I _couldn’t_ see them- the next thing I knew I-I was on the ground,” his talking pace began to speed up as he made vague hand gestures. “Then they gra-grabbed everything- everything they could get. Not-not that I had _much, serves them right”_ he muttered, giving a wan smile towards Douglas and shrugged. “But- but they took what I _did_ have; they have _all_ my money, Douglas.” He turned and looked up to the man now with pleading eyes. “A _week_ of van jobs- of so _much_ work… and for what?” he sighed, turning now back to the table. “I have _nothing.”_ He spoke silently, rubbing his hands through his hair.

                A few minutes went by, neither of them wanting to break the silence. Douglas would have, but he knew Martin didn’t want him to speak yet; he didn’t _want_ him to comment. Not yet. When they got in the car, _then_ Douglas could give him comfort, but right now, Martin just needed to get his head around the whole thing. He’d had students around him when he came running back home, and so now was really the only free time he had had to just allow himself to properly _breath._ To admit his troubles to someone who knew his situation; those students didn’t know Martin was a pilot working for free, and he didn’t want them to find out, so he couldn’t emphasise the fact that this was _really_ not good.

                “Thanks… thanks for coming, Douglas.” The younger man sighed, finally, letting out one deep breath before looking the other man in the eye again. “I-I know you didn’t _have_ to, but-”

“Well, I _did,_ or Carolyn would first of all have your head for not showing up at all, and then mine for not picking you up simply because you wouldn’t give me something in return.” Douglas knew it may have been a tad early to make a joke after Martin had just let go of his pride and told Douglas something he would _never_ have told him when he had first started at MJN, but now they had become closer; Douglas would even go as far as to say they were friends now, and he believes Martin would as well. But he also knew that normalcy was key in these sorts of situations, just until the other person is ready for you to comfort them, which he knew wasn’t yet what Martin wanted.

                Thankfully, Douglas was rewarded with a slight grin and maybe even a chuckle, if his ears hadn’t deceived him. "But I also didn't mind coming to pick you up," he smiled reassuringly, which causing the tip of Martin's ears to turn read as he brushed his finger underneath his nose.

 “I guess we’d better go, then.” Martin said, trying to stand up from the stool. Unfortunately, his legs both had other ideas and went from underneath him as soon as he left the chair, though the sky god was there to catch him before he made his way to the ground. The captain grabbed his arm and held onto it firmly, refusing to let go even as he began to walk. Douglas admitted to himself that it may have been a little uncomfortable, but when Martin would apologise for holding on with such force, Douglas would shrug it off as if it had been nothing.

* * *

 

Douglas helped Martin into the car after realising he had a few bruises scattered about, and, although he denied being hurt anywhere else but his eye, Douglas could still hear when Martin hissed through gritted teeth when he walked – or rather limped – or when the older man accidentally put too much pressure on his shoulder when trying to reassure him things would be okay.

                “Martin” Douglas began suddenly on the drive back to the airfield, distracting Martin from staring out of the window at whatever and listening to the low hum of opera coming from the radio. “I have a spare guestroom in my house,” he turned to the man for a moment before looking back to the road. “And you wouldn’t be causing me any inconvenience if you wanted to stay there for a couple of days; just until you get back on your feet.”

“D-Douglas- I couldn’t… I _really-”_

“If that sounded like a _request, Captain,_ it most certainly wasn’t; you can’t go back to your attic with no money.”

“Bu-but… but, I-I…”

“Full sentences please, Martin.”

“Douglas, I don’t want to- to _impose_ or anythin-” he began once more, but was soon interrupted once again by the first officer.

“Oh, you won’t be. Like I said before; I prefer to do things _quid pro quo._ You think I’d let you simply move in? No, I need someone to help do the dishes and things like that now I’m living the bachelor lifestyle once again,” he smirked, turning to face a now grimacing Martin. “Plus, I’d rather like to have someone around the house,” he admitted, softening his tone. Why he was confessing this to Martin of all people was oblivious to him, but he felt as though he should after he witnessed Martin finally giving up his pride this morning simply asking his first officer to come and pick him up.

* * *

 

Carolyn, of course, was ready to throttle both of her pilots when they walked into the portakabin. However, Douglas stopped her and asked her for a private word. He had already told Martin he would have to explain to Carolyn what had happened, which Martin had silently nodded his head to. It’s not as if he could deny any of it, what with a terrible black eye and the grazes on both his cheek and hands, and so he allowed them two to discuss it privately in Carolyn’s office as he settled down in his chair. Luckily Arthur had gone to buy some food which Douglas had requested him to do to for Martin’s sake more than anyone else’s, though he’d never admit to it if asked.

                Martin shivered, still absolutely drenched. His jacket had been thrown over the radiator to dry, and Arthur had brought him a few towels out before he left on his search for some nice food. Tea had been placed on the desk in front of him, which he was hugely grateful for as it was the only thing warming him up (the tea he had been given at the shared house had been cold, which was why he wasn’t so gutted as he spilt it everywhere).

* * *

 

Douglas and Carolyn came out after a few minutes of Douglas explaining just the minor details; only what Carolyn _needed_ to know. When they came out, their eyes instantly fixed on the silent, stationary figure who now had his arms folded beneath his head as he slept. “Do we have any blankets?” Douglas whispered to the CEO, whose frustration was long gone and now replaced with her motherly nature, her eyes creasing in a sympathetic smile upon looking at the boy fast asleep in drenched clothing. Carolyn indicated to where they had some not-so-great-but-better-than-nothing-blankets stored away in the cupboard. Douglas silently went over and grabbed a few, folding one over a few times and managing to move Martin’s arms away from the table to replace them with said towel gently, and then using the other two to wrap around the younger man’s back, luckily not waking him. Martin smiled as he got more comfortable, and managed to sleep for the remainder of the morning and the majority of the afternoon.

**Author's Note:**

> Oh, who doesn't love a bit of Martin Whump? Thanks for reading, as always! I don't believe there are any errors in this, but it is quite late where I am so I may not be able to spot any so easily - if you do spot any don't hesitate to let me know! Thanks :)


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